


Onyx and Starling

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [28]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Smut, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Manipulation, Presents, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26860291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: A lot has changed since the first birthday that Verity celebrated in Revaire. She has more friends, and more enemies.
Relationships: Arland Princess/King of Revaire, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Decline and Fall [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/946446
Kudos: 6





	1. The Black Gown

In the week leading up to her nineteenth birthday, Verity submitted herself to last-minute fittings for the gown that Petra had been working on all summer. She'd never thought of herself as the sort of girl who wore black and gold, but Kavita had helped her select the fabric and Petra had cut it in such an innovative design that she promised would cause waves for the rest of the year. Verity had learned to be skeptical of Revairian fashion, which was not cut with a figure like hers in mind, but as she was now Crown Princess, and technically had precedence over Gisette, she saw no reason to parrot her style any longer. Petra even hinted that she would mix her mistress a special perfume to match the gown, whatever that meant.

When she wasn't concerning herself with how sparkling she would look for her birthday dinner, she was enjoying the relative quiet of the abbey. She spent hours reading, either for herself or to the Wendell children, and hours more practicing her drawing. When the house started to feel stifling, she would follow one of the faint dirt paths and settle in the shade of the ruined outbuildings, the gatehouse, the cloisters, or the bell tower. Once or twice she took a longer path down the hill, following the brook to a small, secluded freshwater spring that Brielle had promised to show her, and never got around to. During the day she saw so little of her family that sometimes she felt quite alone, and let the peace of that aloneness sink into her, shoring it up against the busy months of winter court.

A letter finally arrived from Brielle, or rather, a folded note sealed within the longer family letter that she wrote to her uncle. Duke Wendell, who loved privacy and solitude almost as much as the Princess did, opened the letter in the privacy of his small library, and immediately set aside the slip of paper that fell out of the folded page when he broke the seal.

"This reads a familiar name, I think," he said, eyes glinting with private amusement. "Your Highness, do you wish to claim this correspondence? It's addressed quite informally, so if you prefer to return the insult with a fitting cold shoulder, of course no one could fault you."

Verity pretended to consider this, tapping her chin. "No, I think I shall be merciful and condescend to read it," she said finally, "just this once."

"Very good," said the Duke, cracking a very small smile. "Don't make too much of a habit of it, though, or you'll find people abusing your favor."

She laughed and accepted the folded note from him. Taking it back to her room, she sat in the seat under the window to read it by the light that filtered in through the climbing vines that shaded that side of the building. It was just a short message saying that Brielle had gotten home to her mother's estate safe and sound, and reasserting her regret that she was missing Verity's birthday. Verity smiled when she read it. Then she folded it up and stashed it in her trunk, along with the letter and gift that Brielle had already given her, in the same orderly pile as all the other packages that had arrived for her birthday.

Unfortunately, Jarrod stalked into the room just as she was putting back the last packages into her trunk.

"What's that?" he immediately demanded to know.

"A letter from my sister," she lied blithely. "Do you want to read it?"

He snorted.

"You're not going to Glassmere this morning?" she asked.

"I only came to change my coat," he informed her. "It's too hot for wool."

"You're not concerned it might storm while you're out?" she asked.

"Too hot _and_ too wet," he amended. "There's nothing worse than wearing a wet wool coat during a summer thunderstorm. Besides, I'm not going to Glassmere. Tristan is meeting me and Malcolm halfway there."

"Sensible," said Verity. "I suppose I shall see you at dinner, then."

He grabbed a jacket out of the clothes press, dropping the one in his arm carelessly on the made bed. Turning his back to her, he began pulling it on as he stomped his way across the room to the door. Just as he was standing in the doorway about to leave, he paused and hesitated, his back still to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

Jarrod turned around, leaning back against the door frame. "What is it you _do_ here all day, anyway?" he demanded to know.

Verity forced a smile to her face. "I didn't know you were interested," she said. "I read and draw, mostly. If the Duke had an instrument, I suppose I might have spent some hours practicing my playing. And I receive a great deal of correspondence. I believe every relation I have expects a detailed accounting of everything I get up to, at least once a month." She laughed awkwardly.

His face twisted, as if the effort of keeping his dismissive words unsaid was almost more than his constitution could bear. "Oh," was all he said.

She decided they might as well leave it at that.

The black gown really was splendid, and fit like a glove. Rather too much like a glove, if to judge by the indiscreet looks that Jarrod sent her way, whenever he happened to pass through as she was being fitted. Still, it was nice to own something that was actually cut with her figure in mind, not adapted from a fashion created for a much slenderer girl. With the addition of her jet hair combs and some ribbon, the overall effect of the ensemble was startling. She was glad that Lady Elyssen had offered to host her birthday dinner; it meant she could expect a proper audience for it.

"It needs jewelry, though," she said as she examined the swish of her skirts in the mirror glass. "I have the black pearl earrings, I suppose, but I wish I had a necklace that matched them."

"I daresay milady will find a necklace that suits," said Petra cryptically.

Verity shot her a sidelong glance but said nothing. She gave the dress one more twirl and sighed, before submitting to being unlaced from the starlight confection, and into a more practical linen frock. She could bear to be parted from it until tomorrow evening. Instead, she took her traveling desk to the library and sat down to write some letters, starting with a reply to Brielle's note, now she had an address for her. She was tempted to describe the dress in detail but knew that Brielle had not Nerissa or Kavita's patience for extravagant sartorial detail. She contented herself with a clever hint or two, promising that Brielle could witness the effect for herself when they met again in Starfall City.


	2. Birthday Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verity receives her birthday gifts.

On the morning of her birthday, Verity lingered more than usual over her morning tea, waiting for Jarrod to finish dressing and be off on his own business. She didn't want him hovering and judging while she went about the business of opening her birthday gifts. Her husband, however, was being as disobliging as only he knew how, most probably without even realizing it. She sipped her tea and waited, with the facade of patience she had perfected over many years as a quiet, well-behaved Arland princess. Finally, his wandering around the room this way and that resolved into some finite direction when he retrieved a small box from his trunk and set it on her dressing table. 

Verity tipped her head up to look at him. 

"Your birthday present," he clarified. 

She tilted her head slightly and stayed silent. 

Jarrod huffed irritably. "Happy birthday, Verity," he finally said. 

"Thank you," said Verity. "That's very thoughtful. Should I open it now?" 

"You should wear it tonight," he said, his mouth pinched. 

And without waiting for her response, he turned and left, leaving the heavy oak door to drift slowly shut behind him. 

Verity looked at Petra, who only shrugged. 

"You'd best open it, milady," said Petra. 

The box was long and flat, made of smoothly polished, warm golden wood, but quite simple. The neatly fitted lid slid off quite easily, to reveal an interior lined with soft red velvet. Against the red and gold, a black onyx choker sparkled dramatically. It was quite unlike any piece of jewelry that Verity had ever owned, and as Jarrod had presented it to her in private, she was almost certain that he had picked it out himself, rather than relegating the chore to his mother. She slipped her fingers under the cool, black stones and held it against her neck experimentally. 

"It will suit your dress quite well, milady," said Petra with satisfaction. 

"You knew about this," said Verity accusingly. 

"An educated guess only, milady," admitted Petra. "I knew that he rode to Summerville looking for a gift, and that this was one of the pieces he looked at. The rest was surmise." 

"Anything else I should know about before tonight?" asked Verity. 

"Lady Cendrile and Lady Demetria will both be accompanied by their husbands," said Petra, "and Miss Cecily will be attended by Benedict Adair." 

Verity made a face. "What a showing. At least I can hope that they will be outnumbered by my friends. Well, it will give me something interesting to put in my letter to Nerissa, tomorrow. I doubt she wants to read a letter that's nothing more than an accounting of all my gifts." 

Just then came a musical tap at the door, and Gisette let herself in, pristine in her pale blue riding habit, her hair braided to one side. 

"Good morning, Verity," she said in a singsong voice. "Have you opened your gifts, yet? Oh dear, I hope I am not late." 

Verity put on her sweetest smile. "Not at all, my dear," she said. "Have you come curious? I suspect most of them will be utterly uninteresting, to anyone but me." 

Gisette laughed. "What a notion! No, darling, of course I came to hand you my gift in person." 

Verity accepted it with good grace and some curiosity. For all she could say against her, Gisette had very fine taste and was happy to share the fine things she loved with those few lucky souls whom she didn't consider utterly dispensable. She was fortunate to be numbered among them, if only because being dismissed by the Princess of Revaire was a hazardous matter indeed. 

Conscious of her intrusion, and having plans of her own for the morning, Gisette didn't linger past her welcome. Petra also saw fit to retreat, after making certain that her lady was well turned out for the day, and promising to return in good time to dress her for dinner. Left alone, Verity was finally able to excavate the small stash of parcels that had been gathering in the corner of her trunk and let herself sink into a fond reminisce with each gift she opened. 

Better than all the tokens of their love were the letters, and Verity lingered over reading and rereading those, feeling unusually self-indulgent on the morning of her birthday. 

Last of all, she opened Brielle's gift. She knew not to expect gold and jewels, both because these did not run to Brielle's taste very well, and because as much as they hid it, she knew the family to be suffering financial troubles. When she folded back the linen wrapping, she was surprised to find an instrument, no larger than her palm, of plain varnished wood and strung with the smallest, finest strings she had ever seen. Verity rested the instrument in the palm of her hand and, reaching with her thumbnail, gently plucked one string. The musical note was stronger and richer than she might have expected, out of such a little thing. She wrapped it again with extra care, resolving to find a proper box for it soon, to prevent it coming to any harm. 

When the ritual gift opening had been accomplished, Verity sat down to read Brielle's letter. As Brielle had promised, she was quite glad to be alone when she read it. Though it wasn't precisely daring, it was worded carefully enough to make her blush furiously, and she knew she would not be able to hide her emotions if she were not alone. More and more, she looked forward to the day when they met again in the city, on more familiar ground. What she would do on that day, she wasn't rightly certain, but she was glad of something to look forward to, however vague. 

When Petra came in to dress her for dinner, she found her eating chocolates and reading the first volume of the outrageous Wellish novel that Lisle and Penelope had gifted her. 

She took particular care of her appearance for the evening, in a way she had allowed herself to be lax on for most of the summer. At court, every day could be a fashion gauntlet. Out in the country, even the fashion-conscious Gisette didn't scruple to don boots and let her hair down. But tonight was special, and after the reprieve she'd had, Verity found that she quite enjoyed making herself pretty, for once. Her gown was everything she could hope for, and given the weather and her own complexion, she could do with a very light face, only some peach-colored rouge that had come as a gift and a little powder against the heat. Petra had done a marvel with her hair, which made it look as though it was tumbled artlessly when really every curl was pinned exactly in place, a careful imitation of carelessness. 

With the black pearl ear drops and the onyx choker around her neck, she looked just about perfect. 

"Do you want to try the scent, milady?" asked Petra, tucking away the last few hairpins. 

Verity looked at her solemnly and said, "I'm putting my life in your hands." 

Petra cracked a smile and produced a small vial of dark glass, corked in silver and unlabeled. Verity tested a drop on her wrist, lifting it to her face to breathe in the scent. It was rich and woodsy, somehow sweet and unsweet at the same time. She tilted her head thoughtfully and took a moment to ponder whether she liked it or not. 

"The heavy scent is juniper," said Petra. "I've used it before, but it's always been buried under the floral and spice scents." 

"It's unusual," said Verity. "That is, it's unlike the scents I've worn before, but I think I like it." 

Petra smiled. "Then you're perfect," she said with obvious satisfaction. "Milady." 

Jarrod would make his way to Glassmere from wherever he had spent his morning, and the King and Queen were heaven knew where, so Verity's escort to the carriage was an unusually cheerful Duke Wendell. He smiled at her in a grandfatherly manner and complimented her gown and hair, somehow without making her feel like a filly being shipped to market. She returned his smile with one of her own, but wasted no time redirecting the conversation to the subject of Revaire's shipping lanes. Caught by surprise, the duke first laughed, and then turned serious and answered all her questions to the best of his ability, though Verity in turn did her best to stump him by returning each answer with three new questions. In such a way they passed the drive circumambulating the lake, while Gisette sat in the carriage with them, ignoring their conversation and reading her book. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my notes, I have a very detailed list of every single package that Verity got, but I elected to leave it out of the final story.


	3. Dinner at Glassmere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tristan and his mother host Verity's birthday dinner. Verity and Hyperion have a conversation about presents, pet names, and liquor.

When she stepped into Glassmere's dining hall, Verity actually heard a gasp. She would have to report back to Petra on her phenomenal success, she thought wryly and turned to look for the offender. The first was Mhairi, who had clapped a hand over her open mouth and was nudging her sister unsubtly, eyes wide. Cecily looked none too pleased; she was used to commanding a greater share of the gaping mouths in the room, being generally considered the neighborhood beauty. The second was Merit Ajah, who had appealed to her mother for a one-time-only dispensation to dine with the royal guests. Her pale eyes shone and her mouth curved into an improbably wide smile.

"Princess Verity, you look so glamorous tonight!" she said when Verity drifted over to offer a personal greeting.

Verity concealed her embarrassment with a small laugh. "All thanks to my maid's efforts, Lady Merit. Remember that for when you are out in society, several years hence. A good lady's maid is worth her weight in gold."

Merit, who had never before been interested in society, nodded solemnly, her eyes huge.

Verity parted from her and sought out her brother and mother, who were conversing in low tones at the other end of the table.

"Your Highness," said Lady Elyssen, a hint of a smile creeping at the corner of her mouth, "you've made quite an impression on my daughter tonight."

"Indeed," said Verity solemnly, "that was my sole object in dressing for dinner."

Tristan coughed to hide his sudden laugh. When he had regained control of himself, he straightened and said, "Happy birthday, Princess Verity."

"Thank you kindly, Lord Tristan," she replied very properly, "and thank you for agreeing to host this little gathering. I fear that dear Duke Wendell's cook has been taxed to breaking point by catering to my husband's particular dining habits."

Tristan and his mother exchanged a pointed look, which told Verity what she had already suspected, that they were aware of the Wendell family's financial circumstances.

"I hope the Crown Prince finds our dining habits agreeable," said Lady Elyssen carefully.

"Ah, yes," said Verity, fighting a frown. "I had best go greet my husband. Lord Tristan, I trust we'll have time to speak later this evening."

"I would prefer that," said Tristan, and bowed his parting.

She quickly dispensed with greeting Jarrod, and by the by managed to discharge her social duties towards the Kallis brothers, who were seated with him. The King and Queen were yet absent, and Gisette had drifted over to Cecily, most likely to needle her vanity. Benedict Adair was also attending on Cecily, and his face was almost as sour as her own. Whether that was because of the temper his sweetheart was in, or due to their recent forced separation, she didn't know, nor was she curious to find out. Having made her circuit of the room, she found her way back to the duke's obliging company, only to discover that he was keeping company with his daughter and her husband.

Verity disliked the man almost as much as his wife evidently did. He was rarely paying attention to his wife, and much more often leering uncomfortably at the much-younger girls in the room. Usually, that meant Gisette and Cecily, although Verity herself had also had an unfair share of his pointed attention. Tonight's share was especially unfair. She wondered whether Lord Kallis would be as bad when he finally deigned to make his appearance. This was a downside to being fabulously well-clothed that she hadn't counted on. Counting to ten backward in her mind, she thought of all the lovely birthday letters she had read only that morning and put on her best smile.

"Quite a social summer we've been having, hasn't it been, my dear?" said Lord Bloudelle, patting his wife's hand.

"Yes, my dear," said Cendrile mechanically.

He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially to Verity, so that his breath, already rank with wine, hit her face full force. "I've been trying to convince my wife that it's high time we spent the social season in the capital, with all the fashionable people, but she doesn't want to leave the baby for so long. We _have_ a nurse for him, of course."

Did they? thought Verity idly. Where was this nurse when Cendrile was trying to teach her son figures, or when Verity herself had spent a whole afternoon reading fairy tales to both children, while their mother rocked the baby to sleep in the next room? Bloudelle might not be subject to the same misfortunes that had plagued his father-in-law's household, but he didn't balk at sending his wife to visit her father with no staff. Something was very rotten in their marriage, and Verity wasn't sure she wanted to think about it. She had her own not-quite-fresh marriage to worry about, she remembered with a start when she felt eyes on her again. Looking up on instinct, she discovered that she was right. Jarrod was watching her intently from across the room.

And so was someone else.

A heartbeat later, the King and Queen were announced.

Queen Violetta was radiant and golden in her gown of gold-and-blue brocade, her hair sparkling with sapphires. If little Cecily Kallis disliked the thought of not being the focus of every eye in the room, then the Queen considered it intolerable, not to say unacceptable. She was the sort of woman who would out-dress a bride at her wedding, and she had expensive tastes, criminally over-indulged. Her gloved hand rested lightly on her husband's arm, and Verity was mildly amused to note that she had obviously dressed him to match and enhance her own couture. The coat he was wearing was lined with the same material as the Queen's gown.

The rest of Hyperion's demeanor, from his fierce scowl to the sharpness of his gaze, was not very much changed. It would take more than some silk and frill to work a change in him. Verity held her curtsy while the royal couple lingered in the doorway, holding their courtiers at attention longer than was strictly necessary. She still felt his eyes boring into her, but with her gaze lowered, she could tell herself it was only an anxious imagining. When at last she looked up, she caught his eyes for just a short moment, just before they slid away from her, affecting a casual disinterest that she knew must be false.

But with their party complete, it was now time for dinner to be served. Lady Elyssen, after an anxious glance at the King and Queen for approval, invited the guests to table with a fixed smile. Once the diners were seated in their carefully calculated locations, she ceded the role of master of ceremonies to her son. Lord Tristan toasted the Crown Princess's health both eloquently and, more importantly, concisely. Verity had no trouble answering his well-wishes with a warm, genuine smile. Once he had set down his glass, though, he was obliged to pick it up again, for the Queen took over and delivered her own, much less abbreviated toast. By the time actual food was served, Verity could already feel the wine settling in her head.

"Not got a head for liquor, have you, little princess?" asked the King under his breath, his head turned just away from her, watching a conversation between Malcolm and Gisette.

"Not very much, no," she agreed. "I have never been an accomplished drinker."

She knew that being seated at his left hand -- the highest position she could be accorded as the guest of honor -- would be an uncomfortable experience. She'd only convinced herself that it wouldn't be terribly bad, not when his wife was sitting on his other side. But she'd forgotten how talented he was at needling her, while not seeming to say anything of much significance. And she'd forgotten just how much Queen Violetta could choose not to see. She and Gisette still believed, with great earnestness, that Verity was terrified of the King.

Well, not that they were entirely wrong.

"Did you open your gifts?" he asked.

"The ones that I have already received," she answered. "My friends have been ever so generous."

"All girls like shiny, pretty, expensive things," he said.

On his right, Violetta was conversing with Lady Demetria on her eldest, Malcolm's prospects, totally absorbed in the subject, as far as anyone could tell.

"Sugarplums and sea glass," she retorted, taking a vicious little pride in correcting his deliberate misrepresentation.

This revelation caused Hyperion to actually turn his head towards her, raising his eyebrows. " _Sugarplums_?"

"Traditional Arlish sugarplums," she said, "with spice in the center. The palace cook makes them. They've always been one of my favorites."

His mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. "Did your father call you _sugarplum_ , Princess?"

Verity thought back to her childhood, back to a time when she could still be a daughter, sometimes, and not just a diplomatic strategy. "No, I don't think he did. He's never approved of nicknames. He actually lost his temper at one of the aunts when she nicknamed my sister ' _Connie_ '."

"That works out well for you," he opined. "' _Verity_ ' is not a name that contracts elegantly."

"No, I don't suppose it does," she replied.

He pitched his voice down even lower so that she could only just make out his words. "Be at the observation terrace after the cordial is served. Wendell Abbey is far too small a house to keep secrets in."

Verity leaned forward on the pretext of setting down her wineglass and looked past him to see Violetta engaging Lord Tristan in some pointed questions about the Ajah family's future fortunes. Tristan looked dreadfully uncomfortable, with Demetria on one side of him and his sister Merit on the other. But Verity didn't have time, at the moment, to leap to his aid, no matter how kind he'd been to her.

"I'm the guest of honor," she murmured. "Won't I be missed?"

Hyperion laughed.

She ought not to have phrased it that way. Making it a question gave him leave to answer it when she was fairly certain that she _would_ be missed. At least, her absence would be noted, even in such a large gathering. Would she be able to refuse him? Did she _want_ to refuse? It had been some time since their last, unpleasant encounter, and since then no one had touched her but--

Verity turned her head sharply to find Jarrod's eyes on her again.

He looked away when he noticed her noticing him, turning back to his neighbor to the right. To no one's surprise, least of all Verity, this was Cecily Kallis. She was not involved in whatever scheme her mother was concocting, so instead, she took the time to play the coquette and tease both Lord Benedict and the Crown Prince, who were her assigned seatmates. Verity felt a twist of something which she thought might be pity or contempt. If she wanted to be a royal mistress, Cecily had no idea what she was getting herself into.

She toyed with her wineglass and looked at no one in particular when she remarked idly in undertone, "I am watched very constantly."

From the corner of her eye, she could see Hyperion leaning back in his seat and gesturing expansively to one of the servants.

"The Princess is displeased with her wine," said the King, in a voice that carried clearly across the dining hall. "Find something better."

Her cheeks burned. Again, she felt eyes on her, but this time it was not only her husband's sullenly possessive gaze. It felt like half the assembled guests must be--

"What are you all staring at?" barked the King. "Get back to your meals."

There was a sudden, loud clatter of cutlery. Verity's face felt like it might scald her skin until it sloughed off altogether. She smiled fixedly at the footman who whisked away her wineglass and replaced it with a garnet-red liquid that looked thick as blood, and thanked him several times.

Once the servants had dispersed and conversation had gradually resumed, she hissed, "You didn't have to do that!"

He smiled his awful, smug twist of a smile and simply said, "I know."

Verity spent the rest of the meal alternating her focus between the food and wine -- which was excellent, with or without the King's rude intervention -- and a piecemeal conversation with Tristan and Merit Ajah. Merit often turned pleading eyes on her whenever Malcolm or Lady Demetria tried to draw her into their conversation, and as the evening wore on, Verity thought she had a notion of what Demetria's scheme was. Or perhaps it was Malcolm's idea. As his uncle had no wife or children of his own, he stood to inherit Merrotayne, and she could easily imagine him thinking that uniting the two larger estates would suit him very well. She would turn her attention against _that_ horrible notion in time. For the moment, she meant to enjoy her birthday dinner.


	4. Cordial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ladies retire for after-dinner drinks, and Verity reassures Lady Elyssen.

She resolved to enjoy herself, and so she did, ignoring Cecily's envious preening and every other disagreeable guest, and focusing her attention firstly on her friends among them, and second on the beautiful cake that was brought in for the final course. Soaked in rich brandy and gloriously aflame, it promised to satisfy every sweet tooth. Even Cecily Kallis could not remain unmoved. Verity was just talking herself into asking for the second slice of cake she wanted when the Queen abruptly rose from the table, without preamble. The rest of the guests scrambled to rise, in deference of rank, except for the King who of course remained pointedly seated.

Gisette flounced over to her side with a flourish of skirts and hooked their arms together, leaning her braided head in to stage-whisper a confidence.

"Let's be off to the parlor, my dear. Mama is eager to serve the cordial and have a little gossip, just for us ladies. No men allowed."

Queen Violetta drew herself up with utmost dignity and led the party of ladies out of the dining room, to inhabit Lady Elyssen's best parlor. When the ladies were all seated, Verity saw that Mhairi was clinging to her mother, and Cendrile was chatting almost comfortably with Merit, but Cecily was nowhere to be seen. She glanced sidelong at Gisette, who smiled so acidly that Verity knew she must have noticed the same thing. Verity shrugged and picked out a seat near the open window, to catch some of the evening wind.

"Your face is rather warm, my dear," said Gisette. "Are you quite all right?"

"Oh, not at all!" said Verity quickly. "I'm afraid I had one too many glasses of wine, that's all."

"Was the wine satisfactory, Your Highness?" asked Lady Elyssen, a bit too primly.

"More than satisfactory, Lady Elyssen," she replied. "I enjoyed it, although I rarely drink wine, and never in quantity. I'm afraid I have no head for it at all."

She smiled apologetically and Gisette chimed it with her honey-sweet, artificial laugh.

"Dear Verity," she said, "always obliging to a fault. But come now, tell us ladies here in confidence, how did you like your birthday gifts?"

"I received a variety of gifts, and I found them all quite thoughtful and charming," replied Verity. "Or did you wish to know about any _particular_ giver? I received quite a bit of candy and several good books."

"And that lovely necklace you're wearing, I assume," said Gisette, "as I've never seen it before."

Verity touched a finger to the cool onyx at her throat. "Jarrod's gift. My maid says it suits me."

"It certainly suits that gown," sniffed Lady Demetria.

"I think Her Highness looks marvelous tonight," said Lady Cendrile.

"There's hardly any argument on that front," said Gisette. "Verity, you've turned yourself out remarkably well for your birthday. That must be a sign of happiness, I think."

"Yes, it's been a good birthday," she replied, "even if I did have a bit too much wine."

"Not much use for a bottle of brandy, then?" asked Gisette, amused.

"On the contrary!" replied Verity. "Brandy would be a very thoughtful gift indeed. I can serve it to my guests, and as I've little experience judging the quality of liquor, I'm reliant on the expertise of my friends to judge what's worthy of my table."

Gisette smiled, satisfied with the compliment. Her gift had not gone amiss.

"Tell us what news you've received in your letters," instructed Queen Violetta imperiously. "Ladies, you might not be aware of this, but my dear daughter-in-law has friends in all four corners. Yes, she's quite an avid correspondent. I believe she receives more timely news of the goings-on in other kingdoms than His Majesty's best spies!"

She laughed, to show this was a joke, and the ladies in the room laughed awkwardly along with her.

"I don't believe my news is much more current than what's already commonly known and speculated," said Verity, "but if it will please Your Majesty, I'm happy to share."

"What have you heard from Corval, Verity?" asked Gisette. "Your sister resides in the Imperial City, doesn't she?"

"The First Prince's widow?" asked Violetta, raising a slender brow.

"Yes," said Verity. "The Empress of Corval has made Constance one of her ladies-in-waiting, an inseparable part of the inner court. She refuses to part with her, even now her husband is so tragically killed."

Lady Demetria clicked her tongue. "Corval. What a nest of vipers."

"Does she not mean to remarry?" asked Cendrile. "I believe it's been a polite interval since her first husband was lost."

Mhairi sighed dreamily. "A young widow, remarrying for love. It's so romantic."

The Queen scoffed pointedly. "If Princess Constance remarries, it will be at the pleasure of the Empress, and for political gain. Not for something so frivolous as her own desires."

Verity wondered at the circumstances of the Queen's own marriage, not for the first time, but said only, "Yes, that is what we have always been taught, as princesses of Arland."

"Oh, Mhairi darling," said Demetria, flapping her feathered fan, "Arland treat their princesses like livestock to be traded, they always have, surely you know that."

Mhairi opened her mouth to say something, but Verity glanced at Gisette, alarmed. It wasn't half a moment before Gisette intervened, smoothly redirecting the conversation to safer grounds. Corvali trading was flourishing more than ever. Goods from all kingdoms moved freely through the empire. Tariffs were low and profits were high, and the imperial coffers were filled to bursting. All this was common knowledge -- or common gossip, at any rate. Ever since the trade agreements between Hise and Corval were sealed, prosperity had been flowing in both directions. It was a bit of business that Verity had a little hand in herself, and she was quite proud of it, though of course, she would never brag. All she was able to add to the general speculation was the rumor that the Second Prince of Corval wanted to redirect a large portion of that newfound wealth into some great architectural endeavor, left unspecified.

"How interesting," said Lady Demetria, but her eyes were glazing over, perhaps because her cordial glass was now being filled for the third time.

Gisette, on the other hand, was listening raptly. She was scheming something, Verity knew, and she knew it would take a great deal of work before she could get included in those schemes.


	5. The Onyx Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The payoff: Verity and Hyperion meet in secret on the observation terrace. 
> 
> This is the sexually explicit portion of the story.

The Queen's cordial, deceptively strong under its syrupy sweetness, was finally getting to the ladies' heads. Lady Demetria in particular was forced to recruit her daughter to find her a dark, quiet room to gather her sense in. Lady Cendrile rushed away with an apologetic curtsy to find her errant husband, while Lady Elyssen dispatched Merit to check on her younger sister. Gisette vanished under the pretext of looking for Cecily, and finally, Verity was able to excuse herself, too, citing her wish to take in the cool, refreshing night air. She left behind Elyssen and the Queen, the latter having resumed her interrogation of the former, regarding her elder daughter's future prospects.

But Verity put it out of her mind as she slipped away, up a narrow staircase and out onto the third-floor terrace, which was built to face the lake, and afforded a heart-stopping view of the clear night sky. Against the starry sky, she could just make out a darker figure faintly silhouetted in shadow. A murmur of cloth against cloth, and he turned towards her, and the lamplight spilling over her from the open door.

"There you are," said Hyperion. "Shouldn't you know better by now than to keep me waiting?"

"It heightens the anticipation," said Verity.

He laughed softly. "That's my job, little princess, not yours. Come here."

"You're being awfully imperious, aren't you?" said Verity. "And on my birthday?"

"Oh? I always thought you liked it," he replied. "You make all those marvelous little noises that drive me wild."

"I've gotten spoiled," she said, "and it's my birthday."

"So you've said, twice now," said Hyperion, frowning. "Didn't they celebrate the Princess's birthday in Arland? I would have thought a sensible girl like you would tire of all the pomp and circumstance."

Verity laughed softly. "Pomp and circumstance are for princes and heirs. If Dion and I hadn't been twins, I doubt I would even know the date of my birth."

"And yet you have adjusted admirably, demanding all manner of gifts and tributes," said Hyperion.

"As I said," she replied, "I'm getting spoiled."

"Come here," he said, and she went.

He traced the curve of her cheek and her hairline, taking a stray lock that had loosened from her coiffure and winding it around his finger. His hand was warm and the evening air was crisp. Verity shivered.

"I hope you're in a better frame of mind than the last time we spoke," he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear.

Verity looked up at him and waited, silently.

Hyperion ran his thumb over her lower lip and frowned. "Will you explain to me, finally, what came over you the other day? I'd been looking forward to getting you alone at last, but you seemed to have other things on your mind."

"My circumstances have changed, lately," said Verity.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

She scowled. "It means I was in an ill mood for the same reason you found it so difficult to catch me alone. Because your useless son won't stop hanging off of me. For some reason or another, he's decided that it was time for him to take an interest in what I do. Don't ask me why."

Hyperion scowled right back at her. "I might've known this would happen. I told you not to be a distraction to him!"

"As I've said," repeated Verity, more calmly, "I've no interest in spending time with Jarrod, but I also have little to no control over his behavior. If he chooses to be distracted, there's nothing I can do about it. And coming to Lost Lake wasn't _my_ decision, either."

The King exhaled one of his long-suffering sighs, as he always did whenever he didn't get what he wanted promptly enough. At that moment, for the first time, Verity could see clearly the shades of her husband's personality in this man who was more cunning and persuasive than Jarrod could ever hope to be. It was hard to remember that only a few moments ago his proximity and the heat of his body were enough to distract her from her troubles.

"I was having quite a nice birthday until now," she said wryly.

"Would you rather I take you home and tuck you into bed, Princess?" asked Hyperion sardonically.

Verity glanced at him sidelong, terribly tempted to say yes, just to be contrary. "Haven't you got more kingly concerns than babysitting your slightly tipsy Crown Princess?"

"I was going to give you your gift," he replied, "in private."

"So I gathered," said Verity. "You mentioned something about exceeding last year's gift."

She restrained herself from mentioning Jarrod's gift, which she was wearing. If he didn't know the provenance of her jewelry, there would be no call for him to lose his temper over it.

Hyperion looked her over speculatively. "I'm not generally in the habit of kissing drunk girls. Maybe I _should_ put you to bed."

"I said _tipsy_ ," retorted Verity irritably, "not _drunk_."

"Oh, in that case," said Hyperion, and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her against him.

"You'll have to do better than that," she tried to quip, but her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears.

Hyperion laughed, and leaned in to skim the curve of her neck with his mouth, a light fluttering touch that -- for a mercy! -- felt nothing like Jarrod's. One hand was splayed warm on her back, holding her close against him, while the other crept up to gently muss her hair. He twined his fingers through her curls, and she didn't have the heart to raise objection, though she knew her mussed hair was likely to draw comment. Then his teeth closed over her earlobe, which startled a gasp out of her.

She pulled back to glare at him and found him smiling smugly down at her.

"What is it exactly that you intend to do?" she asked, endeavoring to raise one eyebrow.

"I have several ideas," he replied. "I could describe each one to you and then put it to vote, but bear in mind that we have limited time, and," here he paused and sighed his long-suffering sigh, "I imagine you'll need time to put your dress to rights."

"I take it you don't like my new gown," said Verity. "How odd. Everyone else who saw it tonight had nothing but compliments."

"That's true," replied Hyperion thoughtfully. "Even Violetta said you looked uncommonly well, and that you've finally started to come into your own. I suppose there was no need for you to slavishly follow court fashions, after all, since this dress is nothing like the ones you used to wear." He punctuated this statement by squeezing her bottom with one hand.

"And you still haven't answered my question," said Verity.

He slid his hands down to her waist and turned her around so that her back was to him. "My plan is for you to brace yourself against that nice, waist-high stone balustrade," he whispered in her ear, "so that I can take you from behind."

Verity half-turned within the confines of his encircling arm to look up at him. "Clarify, please."

He laughed and tightened his arms around her. "I won't be rough on you if that's not what you want, tonight. And besides, the other thing I mentioned is not something that can be done haphazardly. It needs a more well-ordered environment than the one we presently find ourselves in. Not that I've given up on that idea, but it will have to wait, for now. I wish I could peel that dress off of you and lay you bare, but as I mentioned, we're short on time."

The ' _other idea_ ', as he had called it, was something that Verity still wasn't certain whether she was going to agree to. She was glad that she didn't have to make the decision tonight, under a time constraint. She had missed his touch and him going off in a huff over her objections would _not_ have provided a satisfactory end to her birthday celebration. She was frustrated, and she wanted her birthday gift, preferably sooner rather than later.

"I accept your plan, then," she said.

He trailed his fingers down her bare arm, a feather-light touch that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. "Recalcitrant girl. You make me crazy, do you know that?"

She wriggled and turned in his grasp. "Even when I'm agreeing with you?"

Tracing her lips with his thumb, he asked, "Are you ready?"

"I'm wet," she replied.

"Wet enough to be ready?" he asked again.

She lifted her chin and said, "Check."

He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, and she felt his kiss like a bolt of heat rushing down her body and pooling between her thighs. Yes, she was definitely wet, and ready to find out whether it was enough for her to take him in. And if it was a little rough... Well, that was usually how she preferred it. A haze of heat overcame her mind when Hyperion started licking and nipping at her neck. At the same time, he walked her back one step at a time until she hit the cool stone of the balustrade. She gasped out a little moan, and his answering moan was lost in the sensitive folds of her throat.

Pressing his lips close to her ear, Hyperion said, "Turn around and bend over. I'll take care of the rest."

He released his grip around her waist long enough to let her turn around and brace her arms on the top of the balustrade. With a hand splayed in the middle of her back, just where the neckline of her gown ended, he gently pressed her down until her cheek was pillowed on her crossed arms. His fingers traced a meandering pattern up her spine to the nape of her neck, playing with the soft loose hairs that curled there.

"This position suits you," he said, with obvious smugness.

Before she could think of a retort, he had raked up her skirts and piled the fall of silk and lace over her back, and made such short work of the ties on her pants that she gasped at the kiss of the chilly night air on her skin. He stroked her thighs teasingly, cupping his hands above her knees and giving them a firm tug, a clear instruction. Verity obliged to shift her stance, spreading her legs to give him better access.

He tested her with a fingertip and laughed a low, throaty laugh. "Gods above, Verity! You're easy to please."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" she asked, her breath hitching at his touch.

"Merely a statement of fact," he said. "If we can dispense with the banter and get on with it?"

"God, yes, please," she said, or she meant to say, but it came out more like a sigh than any coherent words.

There was no more call for banter or arguments, and the cold kiss of the night air gave way to the press and heat of his body against hers. He was impatient, pushing into her with an animal grunt, his hand pressing down on her back, and he moved with an artless desperation that was new to their liaison. She wouldn't have liked him to make a habit of it; she wasn't always this desperate herself, and when he moved too quickly she ended up disagreeably sore. This time, the quick-and-dirty pace suited her. She didn't have the patience to wait, and she hadn't realized just how badly she had wanted him, all the while he was taunting her at dinnertime. His birthday gift to her, the gentle, nagging anticipation leading up to a promise violently kept.

In the quiet of night, there was nothing but the wind and the crickets to disguise the impossibly crude sound of flesh against flesh. Verity buried her heated face in her arms, to muffle her gasps as much as to hide from herself that which couldn't be hidden. Behind her, she could hear Hyperion's breathless laugh. Somehow he had read her mind, and not for the first time. But his bluster didn't last long, and soon dissolved into a groan, and his pace faltered.

She turned her face just enough to say, "Please--"

At the very same moment, he laughed breathlessly and pressed close to her ear to say, "Don't worry, little princess. I haven't forgotten about your needs."

"You'd better not have," she replied crossly, in a tone of voice that sounded even to her ears like a whine.

But he was no idle talker, and he had the courtesy just then to reach between her thighs and press two fingertips against her nub. At the same time, the change in his angle of attack sparked something that made lightning shoot up and down her body, and Verity bit her own wrist to choke down her scream.

"Close yet?" asked Hyperion in a breathless whisper.

"I need--" she tried to focus her mind enough to speak, but forming the words was a struggle. "I need-- Kiss me, please."

He pressed his mouth to the crook of her neck in a wet, open-mouthed kiss, licking a wide and careless path, and stopped to nuzzle the sensitive skin behind her ear.

"I won't last much longer," he said, warningly. "You feel--" he paused and groaned, and the sound vibrated through her skin and down her body.

"Worth the wait?" she suggested.

He bit her shoulder then, and thrust into her deeply and with no particular rhythm. A few quick, rough thrusts and he was finished, lying heavy like a boulder, his rough panting breath hot against her cheek. Lazily, he shifted to one side and pulled her back against him, wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her close. His other hand dipped between her thighs and made quick work of her frustration, until Verity bit back the cry of her climax, her toes curling in her stockings and her head falling back against his shoulder.

"See?" he whispered smugly in her ear. "I haven't forgotten about you."

With her immediate need satisfied, Verity was now acutely conscious of her surroundings, from the cold night air on her skin to her creased and rumpled skirts. And the general stickiness, which was always mortifying to think of. Hyperion had not yet released his grip around her waist. He scraped his teeth along her neck and shoulder, while his fingertips drew idle little circles on the soft skin of her inner thigh.

"We'll be missed," she said, reluctantly.

Hyperion sighed. "Always so sensible. I really thought I'd fucked that awful tendency out of you, by now."

"Maybe next time," she suggested. "You won't know unless you keep trying."

He laughed. "You've grown bold. I like it."

He drew to his feet then, pulling her up with him and letting her skirts fall back down to cover her legs. Still, he kept his arm around her waist and kissed her neck one last time before he released her with a smack on the rear. She made an outraged noise, which he smugly ignored.

"Run along and put yourself together, then," he said. "There must be a powder room for ladies, somewhere around here. I'll be along by and by, don't worry about it."

"I wasn't worried," said Verity.

Hyperion smiled crookedly. "Go now, unless you want to spend the rest of your birthday with my sweat drying on your skin."

She blanched at the thought of that. Obediently, she dashed across the terrace and back into the house. After quietly checking a few closed doors, she found a small washroom which was set up with all the basic necessities of a lady's toilette. Her sister would be horrified to learn how practiced she'd become at quick, discreet ablutions such as this, but by the time she was done with her routine, Verity was more-or-less satisfied with her appearance. Powder hid the small, reddish mark from the bite on her shoulder, and if she wore a high-necked dress tomorrow, no one would be the wiser. But he was getting reckless, and drawing her _into_ his recklessness. It was a dangerous game they played, and she would be much relieved when they could go back to playing it in Starfall City, where their maneuvers had a bigger theater in which to play out.

When she made her way back to Lady Elyssen's parlor, she found that, in fact, she had _not_ been missed. The ladies were too tipsy or too tired to make a proper headcount, she supposed. When she suggested to the Queen that perhaps it was time they end their gathering, the latter agreed readily enough. She didn't suspect anything, as far as Verity could tell.

All in all, it was a very good birthday.


End file.
